The boar dropped heavily and lay still. In the distance, the hunter emerged from the cover of bushes and walked towards the still form on softly shod feet. Fairlain knelt by the dead beast and for a moment placed her hand upon the ugly head, in a gesture of both apology and thanks. Then, taking out the small knife the woodcarver had given her, she set about skinning and butchering the large beast.
The first time she had killed a creature with a bow and arrow, she had wept a very long time. From a baby, she had been used to collecting the small beasts that her mother snared in the Wildwoods of Dale, but this had been different. The quickness and finality of it had shocked her - a deadly thought that could not be taken back. But it made sense to use the small bow one of the huntsmen of the city had given her, and she took care to grow in skill...like Bard of the stories... so that any arrow sent from her bow would find its mark quickly and do its job with as much mercy as was possible.
This would be the last kill of the day. She had two large hides already, and had butchered out the choicest cuts of meat. She still went on foot, though, and there was only so much she could carry. The wolves of this place would have made notice of the carcasses she left behind and would be tracking her, as well. When this was done, she would head towards the Inn.
As she worked, she noticed a small bird eyeing her from a bush nearby.
"What?", she asked. That had been her favourite part of Bard's story, where the thrush had come and told the bowman just where to aim his arrow at the dragon. She often spoke to creatures, when she did not hunt them, half hoping to hear a reply.
The small bird cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a beady eye.
"I had to....they will only barter at the Inn...and they need the meat."
The bird fluttered a bit closer and landed on the ground close to where she was working. Pecking at the yellowed blades of grass, it ruffled its feathers and made a soft squawk.
"Yes...I know...there was no help for it. I can't carry all of it, and I know they'll be here soon."
Fairlain worked quickly. It was not long before she was able to wrap the fresh cuts of meat in the newly tanned hide and lash it to her back with the others. The little bird continued to watch, but then suddenly flapped skywards with a distressed cry. Fairlain turned and saw the outline of a wolf on one of the far hills. They had caught the scent of blood.
"Time to go... thank you, friend." The little bird wheeled a little above her head. She headed quickly away from the dead boar, hoping the remains would delay the predators long enough for her to reach the ramshackle Inn that stood by the roadway.
She walked quickly. And above her head, the little bird followed.
